The physical effects of chemo are cumulative. They are easy to quantify, classify, and identify. The physiological effects are also cumulative, but subtle.
I began this journey upbeat with the resolve to stay upbeat. Overall, I think I’ve been successful. I have my easy days and my challenging days. I keep the focus on now and don’t get lost in the unpleasant details of my future treatments. Throughout this process, I’ve kept a camera running on myself, watching for any signs of self-pity or negativity. What goes on in my head is my responsibility and I have the tools and motivation to stay level and positive.
That said fatigue is physical and mental. I’m really ready to be finished with this period of active chemo symptoms. My mouth and tongue are still pitted and covered with sores. I would love to eat something other than Cream of Wheat or scrambled eggs. Mostly, I’d like to feel quasi-normal for a couple of weeks.
In my daily routine, I focus on dealing with the physical aspects of fatigue. Today, I realized that I need to extend that focus to my mind. It’s a pretty obvious concept but one I haven’t addressed. Mind and body are intertwined and, when I listen, clue me in on what the other is experiencing. Keeping the fatigue focus on body only doesn’t cut it. Mind and body support one another. I’ll start by using self-hypnosis and relaxation tools.
Today was a gorgeous Spring day. Ann & I and the doggies sat out on the deck. We talked and read, but mostly soaked in the sun. I love Springtime in New England. The air is sweet and musky. A wide variety of birds visit our backyard. We live about quarter mile from the headwaters of the mighty Blackstone River. On a quiet day, I can hear the water flow from the pond into the river. I have a Blackstone Valley vanity plate on my Prius. It feels like (and is) home.
I figure by Monday, I’ll be out the other side of the working side effects of the chemo. That will give me a couple of weeks to put weight on before the radiation treatment starts.
Thanks for your support and good wishes. You carry me through these days and I am ever grateful to have you in my life.
Love…
Richard
You have been so amazingly positive through these chemo cycles. I know someone else who went through treatment for throat cancer this winter, so I’ve heard how difficult these treatments are. Your attitude and your stamina are matchless. Though you tell us of the challenges of your treatment cycles, and I appreciate that so much, you never complain. I never detect even a hint of self-pity in your words. Your mind and all of your senses are always on the goal of reclaiming your good health. You keep on going, relentlessly, tenaciously.
ReplyDeleteReading your blog has been a remarkable experience for me. It has touched every aspect of my life. It says to me, “Come on, come on, you can do it.” It reminds me that, if you can get through this extraordinary challenge in your life, I can get through whatever seems difficult in mine. Thank you for that. It is invaluable.
Okay, what you really need during this phase of treatment is grits … yummy, soft grits. But, here’s the problem: Grits aren’t so good without buttermilk and cheese, neither of which you eat. There’s always a catch with southern cooking, have you noticed that? Could be worse. I could be suggesting redeye gravy. Even I can’t go quite that far into the swamp.
Greens would be good, and you can make them real tasty without meat, and you can cook them long enough that they turn into soft mush, but they must have vinegar … And vinegar, right now, would send your poor mouth into agony. Always a catch with southern cooking.
I am thinking of your poem, Roux, and wishing that I could hear you read it out loud right now. I wish you heat and spice and a savory blend of experiences, my friend. I wish you the soft sounds of your beloved river, which must surely flow from where you are to where I am.